


When I see him

by islasands



Series: Lambski [58]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Anticipation, Requited Love, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-27
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 02:29:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islasands/pseuds/islasands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam is flying to meet his lover after an extended separation. He has been working too hard to miss him. Now, in the peace afforded by being mid-air, he applies himself to that task...</p><p>The music is "Bonjour", by Lemongrass. You may like to listen as you read. The video replays, so when there is a pause, just read on and it will play again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I see him

"Bonjour"

  


Lemongrass

  


He had slept through most of the flight, or it seemed like that, his head in the clouds, the tension in his body at long last unwinding in the peace of high altitude. He occasionally woke and looked out the window to view the embodiment of that peace, clouds stretching as far as his eye could see, a soft Antarctica of cloud whose seas, glaciers and mountains were variously made of layered spindrift, some of it feathery, trailing into nothing, some ruffled into myriad peaks, some piled high, glossy and stiff, as though by the addition of sugar.

Every now and then they flew against the sides of the satiny towers of cumulus and their walls vaporized into a smoky haze. Other times they ran atop a fine stream of cloud that was hurrying slowly, going wherever the wind was going. Well, he was in a hurry too, and his hurry was just as slow and resolute and self-assured as that of the wind. 

_When I see him._

Later, through intermittent gaps in the cloud he could see the blue of the ocean far below, it’s beaten blue brass decorated with pansy shaped shadows of clouds. It was late in the day and the curving horizon of the sky was circled with a pale wash of yellow, which as it arched upward was changed imperceptibly into water colored shades of blue. The cabin was softly lit and so was his heart. It felt hushed. It had felt hushed from the moment they leveled out after the ascent and he could settle into the certainty of his destination. And he had time to think.

_When I see him._

_When I see him we won’t kiss. Not immediately. It won’t be possible. We’ll greet each other with the formality of feelings held in check. Yes. Our first embrace will be an embrace of relief. Here you are. Here_ you _are. That sort of embrace. And then I will smooth his hair back, and look at his smile, unwilling to meet his eyes. I will have to avoid them for a bit. If I look in them too soon I will cry. Just plain cry as though I’d heard one of those piano notes that is deliberately, unbearably sustained. Nothing is so clear as his eyes. Clear and sheer as the fidelity of waves that arch and break without ever looking back. That’s how he looks at me. Again and again._

_And then…_

_And then, seeing the manly cut of his cheekbones, the boyish set of his jaw, the way his lips part, his nostrils widen, and the lines of hurting desire appearing on his forehead…_

_And then looking down at the opening of his shirt, flinching inwardly because I know by heart the flesh inside his clothing…_

_And then feeling the warmth of his presence passing right into me, right into my cells and muscles and veins and bones, as I know mine is entering his. Like the yellow and blue of that sky out there, merging in the osmosis of our attraction to one another, me to his vibrant core of fire, him to my aquatic emotionality…_

_Too much. It will all be too much. I will have to step away and mess around with my luggage while we talk and he follows me everywhere, keeping a hand on some part of my person, my arm, my back, until I start unpacking and then he will sit on the bed and watch while I find the gift I have brought for him, talking the whole time, knowing he is waiting._

_No._ _No, that won’t happen._

_Because I won’t be unpacking anything but the weight of this separation we have endured. I’ll put the flat of my hand on his chest and push him until he is forced to sit on the bed. Then I’ll bend over him and slowly use my weight to push him back, pushing until he is trapped beneath me and I can feel him giving way to his emotions, but not me, I won’t give way. I’ll keep my advantage immaculately cool and glad, as though I have found something that belongs to me, something I treasure and thought I had misplaced, and I’ll kiss him like that, closing my mouth over his, telling him with the pressure of my groin and the pressure of my lips, that I’ve found him – isn’t it lucky? - and then to demonstrate just how lucky it is I’ll roll over and pull him on top of me so he can feel the lightness of his being supported by the depths of mine, and I will place my hands under his top so I can expose his skin to the hard flow of my touch, and I will push my hands right up to his shoulders, causing his clothing to bunch up, and then my tongue will begin to tell the inside of his mouth, his saliva, tongue, and teeth what it is I plan to do with him…._

_And then I will take off his clothes but not mine. I will make him stand up so I can make taking off his clothes a form of caressing. I will ignore the wish in his eyes and do it slowly, carefully pulling his top over his head and then closely running my hands up his sides, over his ribcage, lightly pressing his armpits with my middle fingers before dragging my palms over his chest…_

_The smell of his skin. His nipples under my tongue. His hands on the back of my neck. His voice. My name._

_And then I am running my hands down to his waistband, while at the same time brushing my nose back and forth over his nose, and then down his cheek, down to his throat, my hands grappling with undoing his pants while I mouth and graze the side of his neck with my teeth…_

_And then I make him endure my face skimming to and fro across his torso and abdomen, slowly lowering myself in preparation for removing his pants, until I am kneeling on the floor and dragging them down to his ankles while I push my face between his thighs, agitating his sensitivity to the touch of my hair…_

A voice spoke and he looked up at its owner. She was saying something unintelligible about food or drink or something. He smiled politely, shook his head, and turned to look out the window. He stared at the clouds drifting just beneath him, so loosely woven by the wind they were disintegrating as he watched. He closed his eyes.

_Where was I? Oh yes. Then I run my hands up and down the sides of his legs, then over his hips, pressing my thumbs in the hollows of his hips, while I raise my face to nudge against his testicles, then use my tongue, loaded with saliva, to measure the extent of his wavering erection…_

_“Pull my hair,” I’ll say, before taking him in my mouth. “Pull it. No, pull it hard!” That’s what I’ll say and then as he pulls it I will use the fight to keep my head down and keep him in my mouth to show him the virility of my love, it’s strength for knowing and keeping the secret of his artless intensity of being…_

_And when from the softening of his grip on my hair I know that he is about to ejaculate I will pull my face away, finishing his urgency of love with my hand, and then the semen running down my cheeks will be both his and my tears…_

He opened his eyes. He blinked. The sun on the edge of the sea of cloud was an imperfect circle of completely smashed light.


End file.
